


a summer squire

by Pitseleh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M, Montage, dubcon, precious little babies, what have i doneee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pitseleh/pseuds/Pitseleh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I tend to read Renly and Loras' relationship as less flowers-and-unicorns and more Renly-took-advantage-of-someone-who-was-underage-but-was-nice-to-him-but-still-took-advantage-of-him-in-a-way-that-takes-a-lot-of-dashes-to-describe. The fic itself isn't at all graphic, but it is unsubtle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a summer squire

It is a dream, to squire for Renly. Loras had worried, initially, that his lord would not be so kind, or perhaps turn to drink, or be as stern and cold as Willas told him Stannis was. But, no, Renly was a kind, charming man, making sure he had ample time to practice with lance and sword, letting him sleep and play as much as he needed. Loras was not overworked, as Garlan had complained of being when he was a squire, nor was he ignored; Renly was always there to lend a hand, and even consoled him once, in the night, when he was lonely and grieving with homesickness.

And so for a year, Loras was happy and well-loved. He found he missed home less and less as time went on. And if his desires went awry, and he did not develop the deep love of women he knew was expected of him, he presumed that would come eventually. He had been late to grow hair on his chest and deepen his voice; mayhaps other things would be late in the coming as well. And if he desired more of his liege than any man of honor and respect could rightfully give, that could be ignored. Loras was of Highgarden, a Tyrell. He would not compromise himself-- dishonor his family-- in such a fashion.

He would be a knight, one day. He would usurp the Kingslayer's place as youngest member of the Kingsguard. That was his goal. He would not risk it with such childish follies that surely he would grow out of, given time.

And so when he woke in the night, full up with longing and confused desire, he would imagine it stoppered, like a jar of wildfire. It would not be released, and with time, it would fade away, forgotten entire.

Loras Tyrell was not well accustomed with shame. As such, he reacted badly, the first time that Renly came into his bedchamber early in the morning, before he had even woken. He would not have minded, truly, if he had been able to control his body at all.

(It was not his fault. He was simply too young.)

But Renly only raised one perfect brow, eying the pillow tucked carefully over Loras' lap. "Be ready soon," Renly said, a hint of amusement on his voice. "I shall need my faithful squire for this day's tourney."

After Renly left, Loras had no time to be ashamed, rushing to prepare himself as he was. Likewise, he had no time to ponder over the strange emphasis his liege had placed upon the word _faithful_. Surely it had no great meaning. Surely he was not mocking. Renly was too kind to mock.

The tourney went well. Renly did not win, but he rarely did; Loras wondered, occasionally, if it were in part his fault; he could see the moves Renly made wrong, the thrusts where he should have parried, the misplaced sidesteps. But Renly never did take criticism well, and Loras was just a lad. Surely Renly knew better.

After, there was a banquet, as there always was, and Renly drank too much, as happened but rarely. It was Loras' job to lead him back to his rooms, and when the door was shut and Loras was helping Renly out of his clothes, Renly reached down, briefly, to kiss him.

It was strange, and perfect, and everything Loras had wanted, presented now in bright and terrifying reality. In the dreams and fantasies Loras had, he was not so small of stature, nor was Renly so much larger than he. Renly's grasp was not so rough nor insistent. His tongue was not so probing. He did not taste of harsh dark wines.

Renly smiled, afterward, and kissed Loras quickly on his nose. He crawled into bed, then, and was asleep almost instantly.

(Loras only sprinted back to his room, face flushed with shame and desire.)

In the morning, there was no awkwardness; Renly's manner was as if it had never happened, which was all the better, for more and more Loras was convinced he preferred his fantasies as just and only that. If occasionally, his resolve did waver, he need only turn to shameful acts of self-abuse to sate his desire. Loras was young, and he was to understand that with time, such desires faded.

They did not. But Loras did his best, in any case. He was a Tyrell; self-preservation was his nature.

His jousting improved. He became more of a figure at court. Renly trained him in social graces, honed his wit into a sharp sword with which he could never be disarmed. His mind was a weapon that could be used ever to his advantage, and in every situation. He was every maiden's dream of a husband, and truly he tried to have eyes for at least one of them. He gave out roses at tourneys. He won them all.

And Renly kissed him again, roughly, when he was nearly a man grown. It was strange-- again, what he had wanted, and again, not entirely. The act itself was quick and painful, not the glorious thing he had conjured up in his imagination. He supposed that was his fault, for Renly would never harm him unduly.

He loved his liege, his lord, the man who would eventually be his king. Any misgivings he had were foolish in nature, and could be put aside. For once, he could speak openly of his desires, of his reticence to marry. So many things that had been locked away were now open, if only to one man. Renly was man enough to count as many.

It was worth a little pain.

The morning after, Renly spoke in a groggy tone. "I was in my cups." He sounded strangely ashamed; Loras could not think of why.

(Loras occasionally felt empty, but it was easy to fill that emptiness with thoughts of Renly.)

He had tasted no wine on Renly's lips, that night. "Of course," he said, and rolled out of bed to prepare for the coming day.


End file.
